Tight But Polite

There are two people on a nightclub door and neither is on your side. The picker decides whether you get in. The bouncer decides whether you stay.

As a combination, it's terrifying.

Which is why the guy on the gate in Ridgewood, Queens threw me completely.

A little while ago it was my birthday and I'd been driven east with no idea where we were going. I guessed wrong the whole way. The rooftop comedy gig, a Mets game, that Sri Lankan place near JFK. Then we crossed into Bushwick and I worked it out. Mister Sunday. The outdoor party spot. We hadn't been in nearly two years.

Just inside the gate, a big guy came towards us. I'm 6ft 6. He was 6ft 8 and twice as wide. I braced for the “not tonight, guys.”

He was friendly, relaxed, visibly pleased that people were arriving. He was also completely clear about the rules, and there are a lot of them.

Both jobs at once, and neither of them felt like a threat.

I didn't know what to say back. What a delight.

He must have done that a thousand times that day. It didn't sound like it.

Inside was how I remembered. Bright colours, smiling faces, every kind of person.

I design the openings of things for a living. The first ten minutes, the welcome, the bit before anything has started. I spend a long time on it.

The guy on the gate delivered on it in 30 seconds.

I never got his name. A good reason to go back.

P.S. 90s London rave flyers often said the same thing. “Security: tight but polite.” Glad to see it still stands in NYC.